"In our top story today, a cat was rescued from the side of a cliff…" The television droned on carelessly, unaware of the matters that raged in the room that it belonged to.
"How is this possible!" Kento raged, punching the wall in anger, "He was there! We were there! Why didn't we just drag the jerk home? Not like I want him around, but he could be good for target practice…"
"Kento, relax, will you?" Cye admonished him with a hand on his shoulder, "How could say things like that?"
"What do you think, Ryo?" Rowen looked at the Japanese boy, who stared over the world of New York from the window of he and Cye's hotel room. Rowen was sitting on Ryo's bed, while Ryo stood in front of Cye's empty single.
Ryo said nothing. He just continued to look out over the city, a saddened look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke, "Kayura told us to get the armor back…"
"But the armor is dead!" Cye held the blackened marble that crumbled slowly.
"The balance between good and evil is thrown off now," Rowen sighed, "We need a warrior of Light to match Cale's warrior of Darkness."
"How do we match anything? The Armor is dead." Kento's face was pure anger as he grabbed his jacket, "I'm going to go for a walk."
"Kento…" Cye called after him, but it was too late, his friend had already gone.
"The armor can't be dead," Rowen said quietly, his cheeks pale, "If it was, we would have seen the effects of it already. Kayura isn't confined to Japan. She knows how to call us to get in touch with us."
"I don't have any answers, guys, I really don't," Ryo grimaced as he watched the sun go down beyond the city horizon. Finally, he turned away from the glass and leaned against the wall, glancing towards the door, "I hope Kento doesn't get into any trouble."
"Hey there, sweet thing!"
"You too busy to buy a girl a drink?"
"He's a strong one, he is! He'd be a nice dancing partner!"
Kento shook his head and jammed his fists into his jacket pockets as he stalked down the sidewalk, just trying to cool down. Ignoring the rude comments of the street-women, he kept going, having no particular goal in mind.
He'd never thought such a city could be so intriguing and still so…repulsive.
"You look like your best friend died."
"Huh?" Kento froze and glanced at the woman who had spoken. She was standing in the shadows, the only thing illuminating her face was the flickering flame of a lighter, which was replaced by the smoldering ember of a cigarette.
"You've got the same look that I've seen a lot of guys with," She stepped out of the darkened doorway and smiled slightly, gesturing with her cigarette, "Mind if I join you?"
"It's a free country," Kento sighed and started walking again.
"You know, I can place your accent. Japanese? Chinese?" She paused, "You aren't from around here, are you?"
"No, I'm from Japan," Kento just wanted to think, he just wanted to be alone. He wished that this woman would back off and leave him alone, "I'm here with friends."
"So who died?" She exhaled a plume of smoke.
"The world's last chance for survival," He grumbled.
"Wow, that must have really hit you hard to get you walking the streets during the twilight hours," She flicked an ash away, "Especially when you're heading for the ghetto inner-city. Not safe in there after dark."
"I can take care of myself," As soon as he said that, Kento realized how cliché it sounded.
"Not in there you can't," She shook her head, "Not unless you got a guardian, a pass-card to get you past the gang drops and ambushes. Plus you have to know where to step. If you're looking for a fight, my friend, don't take it inside."
"Take it inside? Friend?" he raised an eyebrow and stopped walking.
"You're beating yourself up for something that you can't fix on your own. You're killing yourself for something that someone else did," She drew back a long breath on her cigarette, "Getting into a fight isn't gonna fix anything. You've got to forgive them."
"Why should I? It's their fault that the world is going to end," He crossed his arms.
"You aren't speaking figuratively, are you?" She sighed and gestured with the smoldering stick of tobacco, "I don't claim to be a psychic like Madam Cleopatra or whatever. But I do know a broken spirit when I see one."
It was now that Kento realized how truly strange this woman looked. Her skin was so pale that it could have passed for white, and her hair was flat, dungy looking, and could have been any color in the streetlight.
But her eyes…
"And you have a very broken trust and spirit," She said quietly, "You should go home and forgive your friends. Whatever it is, it isn't worth killing yourself over eternity. Trust me."
Kento snorted and turned away, his arms still crossed, "Fine. But they don't deserve it."
"No one does," She patted him on the shoulder and smirked, taking one last drag off her cigarette before flicking it away, "But you have to learn how to live with people like that."
Kento looked at her for a long, quiet moment.
There was something that she reminded him of…
He chuckled.
"Here you are, giving me all this advice, and I don't even know your name," He smiled lopsidedly, "Can you give me a hint? My name is Kento."
"My name is Gwendolyn," She laughed at his facial expression, "All girls can't have names like Candy, Brittany, and Deborah, can they? You can call me Gwen, if you want."
"So, my turn to ask questions," Kento began to walk again, and she followed, "Why are you having out on the streets? Is there a reason that you hide in dark doorways, or is it just to assault passing men with advice?"
"I couldn't sleep," She admitted, "I'm packing, moving to a better part of town."
"Ah," He looked around, "Hey, shouldn't we turn around? We're heading into the ghetto, or whatever you called it."
"Yeah, let's," She shivered, making a complete about-face, "Uptown is nicer at this hour of the night anyway. I know an awesome all-night shop that serves killer bagels and coffee. Have you eaten yet?"
"Nope, but I could eat," He grinned and patted his solid stomach, "I work out a lot, so I have to keep up the food intake."
Gwen laughed, "Heh, I can believe it. Shall we?"
Knock, knock…
"Ergh, who is it?"
"It's me, Sage," Tyler pounded on the door again, "I know you fell asleep on the couch again, so I know that you can hear me. Open up."
"Fine, you persistent, mule-headed, rock-brained…" Sage swung open the door, "Why the hell are you standing on my door step at one in the morning when we both have to work tomorrow?"
"Remember? We're both on leave for a while, moron," Tyler stepped inside and held up the two steaming to-go cups of coffee that he gripped gently, "Anybody up for a cup of Old Mama's Home Ground Java?"
Sage groaned, but he took the cup anyway, "Come into the kitchen."
The blonde agent sat down at the kitchen table ever so gingerly. Tyler could easily see the bandages on Sage's side, shoulder, and chest under the white t-shirt, and the braces on his ankle and wrists couldn't be hidden.
"Man, that guy really beat you up, didn't he?" Tyler sipped from his cup.
"Yeah, he did," Sage grimaced, "It wasn't pretty. Be glad you were out for most of the fight."
"Yeah, with a intermediate-sized concussion!" Tyler tried to laugh, but it didn't take. Instead, he just spoke candidly and truthfully, "Sage, Saeki is dead. The only thing you have to worry about know is what tie you're gonna wear to work."
"That could be life and death in itself, especially on your end of the jungle," Sage played with the cup's cover, "Miss Cassandra Marten might have something to say about it."
"Ah, that woman is a dream," Tyler grinned and leaned back, "You know, I love the thought of getting married to a receptionist. We go to the same work, we have the same normal hours—"
"This isn't why you came over is it?" Sage interrupted him, "You're checking up on me. Why."
"Sage, look at yourself for a minute."
The blonde man gave his friend a 'are-you-serious-it's-one-in-the-morning' look.
"You're a wreck!" Tyler expelled a deep breath, "You can barely walk, your eyes are all bloodshot, and don't tell me you sleep fine, because I know that you don't. You have nightmares every night, again, don't tell me I'm wrong. You've got the look."
"Tyler—"
"These guys are your friends, Sage! And you slammed the door on them pretty damn hard," The other man continued, "They have something that you need, every old friend like that does."
"So what you're saying is to forgive and forget, right?"
"Is that so unbelievable?"
There was silence.
A police siren faded in the distance.
Car horns honked on the streets.
Sage groaned, unable to sit up straight anymore. Tyler dove across the table, grabbing his friend's shoulder. Sage looked up at him with reddened eyes.
"I don't feel—too good, Tyler…" He went limp, then his muscles seized again, "I need to sleep…"
"Yeah, no kidding."
As soon as Sage was tucked away safely in bed, Tyler cleaned up the coffee cups, turned off the lights, and left the apartment, his job done and his duty complete.
Now all he had to do was to stay awake long enough to get to his apartment…
"It's been four hours, Ryo, don't you think that we should call someone? Like the police or something?" Cye glanced up at Ryo, who had woken up early, just like he had, when their telephone had shrilled at one in the morning. The lady at the desk apologized profusely, but neither of the men had been able to fall asleep again.
"Kento will be fine, Cye, don't worry," Ryo lay on his stomach on his bed, looking out the window at the city again.
"He should have been back by now," The Briton grumbled, "He might have gotten lost. He left around nine o'clock, for crying out loud, you'd think he'd find his way back here by now…"
"We should wake up Rowen anyway. It's not fair that we have to be up and he doesn't," Ryo reached for the phone, but Cye already had it, a smirk on his face.
Moments later, the door opened, and in stepped Rowen, looking as tired as could be imagined.
"Kento's not back yet, huh?" He yawned, nearly cracking his jaw.
"Nope," Ryo rolled over onto his back.
"Do I care?"
"Nope."
"Is there a reason I'm awake right now?"
"Nope."
"Is there a reason I shouldn't kill you for this?"
"Yep."
"Tell me, I'm dying to know."
"Nope."
Rowen glared at Cye, then sank into one of the chairs, crossing his arms and looking indignant.
"We should go look for him…" Cye offered.
"It's only one in the morning," Rowen realized what he said and sighed, "Fine. Let me get my jacket."
He stood and stretched, then headed for the door. His room was the next one over, but they hadn't been able to get one that had that nice little, convenient door between them. So he had to use the hall. The cold, freezing, drab hallway…
He fumbled with his key for a second when he saw that the door was partly open. He frowned, remembering that he had slammed it quite hard on the way out.
"Kento?" He stepped inside.
"Mgrthff…" came the muffled reply, "Shut the door, Blueberry. I'm tired as heck and I don't need the extra light…"
"Where have you been—" Suddenly, as he stepped into the room, the smell of fresh baked bagels assaulted his nose. The scent of strawberry and honey cream cheeses wafted into his nose. His mouth began to water, despite his fatigue, "Are those—?"
"Go ahead, I brought some home for you guys…" Kento's words were then punctuated by the sound of contented snoring.
Rowen looked at the bag and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet goodness…
He glanced at the phone, remembering the oh-so-rude wakeup call that he had gotten, then he looked at the paper bag of bagels that seemed to beckon to him, to call him to taste their home-baked heaven…
"Nyah, they don't deserve it."
He hunkered down for a late-night snack, then headed to bed.
"Hey, guy, how's the stiff?" Tyler grinned as he peeked into the cubicle, "Guess what?"
"I'm not going to dinner with you and Cassandra again. Last time was a disaster," The blonde agent grumbled, tossing a crumpled up paper at the reddish-brown haired man. He slipped off his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You still gotta wear those?" Tyler gestured to the glasses that Sage now lay on the desk.
"Until the blurs go away, yeah," Sage had been unable to read close up since the 'incident' with Saeki, but it was getting exponentially better, "So what should I be guessing about?"
"Vampires."
He dropped a folder on to Sage's just-cleaned-off desk, ruining Sage's hopes for an early end to the workday.
"You aren't serious," He looked up at his friend as he opened it and pulled out a stack of pictures. Tyler nodded, surprisingly grim, and pulled out one of the pictures to lay it on the top. Sage grimaced in disgust.
"Now you know what exsanguination is," Tyler bit off a short chuckle.
"I didn't want to know," He hated color photos. He really did.
"Scully and Mulder would have a field day with this crap," Sage sighed, "Unfortunately, they're out of town. Where did they go again?"
"Juneau, Alaska," Tyler pointed to a different picture, "Security camera."
"Huh," Sage studied the grainy photograph, which was in black and white, plus liberal amounts of static snow, "Any identification yet?"
He shook his head, "Nah, but word says that we should call up one of our old street informants on this one. A Mythology and Ancient Cultures major from Cairo. Seems that he's made it his business to know all the info possible about these guys."
"You mean vampires?" Sage leaned back in his chair, "What else does he study? Walking mummies? Zombies? Zeus and Hera? Please don't tell me that he studies Shinigami and Tatsutahime."
"Don't kill the messenger."
"I can't believe that we got stuck with this," Sage rubbed his eyes, "I'm not even on real active duty yet."
"I know, and that's why I'm supposed to handle this with a new guy," Tyler crossed his eyes, "But I want you there. I want you to be in on this because, I don't know what happened at that restaurant, but I know that you have some major 'god' vibes."
"God vibes?" Sage's chest seized up.
"You know what I mean. I wasn't completely out," He shook his head, "I don't know what 'Dao Chi' means, and 'Dao Jin' could mean grande chocolate brownie frappachino for all I care, but there was some major power flowing through that place, and I think it was mystical."
Sage didn't know what to say. All his fighting against his past, and here was his partner trying to pull the rug out from under his feet…what was he supposed to tell him? 'I used to be a mystical warrior that fought evil?'
"Hiretsukan," Sage muttered, "Fine, Tyler. What do you want to know?"
"Nothing. If you're running from something, I don't want to rub it in your face," He shook his head, "Just check into this for me, will you?"
"Go ahead and give me the guy's address and I'll do it. Call it payback for me saving your butt at that restaurant," He finally crumbled, "But if he tries to put some voodoo spell on me, I'm gonna burn more than just his address."
"Ah, don't worry 'bout him," Tyler grinned and began scribbling on a memo pad, "He's pretty normal. Call him Professor Shirr-Be and you'll have a friend forever."
Sage sighed and took the paper, then pulled on his jacket gingerly, leaving one sleeve loose over this sling, "This address is near the ghetto district. You sure that this is right? Shouldn't he be at the university?"
"That's his home address," Tyler explained, "He just came back from a long trip in deepest, darkest India, studying the Shiva myth, so he's still writing his papers on that. Hopefully he'll be home."
"And if he isn't?"
"Check the bagel shop on Third and Albuquerque."
It took Sage the rest of the day to convince himself that this was worth it. Once he had finally gotten himself to the street, he still had to keep telling himself that, or else he would have turned around and walked away.
He rang the proper bell for 'Professor Shirr-Be.' It took three tries to finally get a response.
"He ain't here!" The landlady squawked, "Quit pounding that damn button!"
"Sorry, ma'am, do you know where he is?" Sage remained polite.
The older black woman walked towards him, peering at him from inside the door. Here eyes were surprisingly sharp and they studied him quickly, "He's out, at the Bagel Brother's Coffee Shop down on Third and Anderson."
"So much for Third and Albuquerque," Sage grumbled, "Thank you very much."
"You might want to try the university as well."
"Thank you," Sage walked away, finding that his cab had already left him. Fortunately, Third and Anderson wasn't that far away, and he needed the exercise. He never told anyone, but he still had to wear the ankle braces day in and day out.
As he walked, it seemed like the normal sounds of the city began to fade. He could still hear everything, like the motors running, but even then, that began to drift away, like it was falling into a dream.
Something is definitely not right…
His hand went to his sidearm and rested there, as he was unsure as what to do next. He carefully continued, heading towards the intersection ahead.
There was an explosive rush of energy as something blew through the streets, knocking him into the wall. When the power had released him, he sank to the ground, gasping for breath.
When he stared after the thing, all he saw was white, ghostly apparitions, molded together like some insane Picasso play-doe sculpture, with the faces of people being whirled inside.
It was like a monster from hell.
It disappeared at the next intersection, swallowing pedestrians and spitting them out against the walls…only, when they hit the bricks, they were glowing green smears of nothing even vaguely human, and their face was added to the mass.
"What the hell—?" Sage gasped, looking down at his own hands. There was a small layer of slime on his hands, but that was wiped away easily.
He reached for his gun. But it was an acid-ridden pile of unusable metal, which he quickly dropped to the ground.
The intersection of Third and Anderson was strangely silent. Car stood stalled in the streets, their drivers' spirits gone and their 'earthly' remains smeared all over the windshields.
If he had eaten breakfast, Sage was sure that it would be all over the sidewalk.
His stomach didn't seem to care.
He lurched over to an alleyway and began to throw up, his entire form heaving as his body seemed desperate to purge the horrific images from his mind by splattering them all over the concrete.
He wiped his mouth shakily and tried not to see the piles of clothes, the glowing smears, the unclaimed animal leash, the dog completely oblivious to its masters demise, yet still sniffing and whining sadly over the crumpled Dockers pants and white button up.
The neon sign for 'Bagel Brothers Coffee Shop' flickered a few times as he shuffled by, then completely went out. The merry little bell above the door jingled, still informing the silence that there was a customer.
The story was the same inside. Spilled mochas, dropped blueberry muffins, and the same disgusting, human-shaped spatters on the wall.
"Is anyone here?" Sage called, hoping beyond everything that there might still be someone alive in here. He searched carefully, avoiding all contact with the 'departed' and their belongings, "Anyone?"
"No rest shall come to they that escaped the wrath of the Angel of Death," An ominous voice toned behind them. Sage spun to see a black robed figure point a bony hand at him.
"Who are you!" He demanded, his face turning red.
"Let those who have survived, listen unto my words!" The skeletal face jeered at them, "The Gates open even now. Great strife comes upon thy world. Seek refuge, for even now, the Lord of Lies comes!"
"What are you, some kind of prophet of doom?" Sage looked for some kind of weakness, some sort of indication that this was just another nightmare, "What did you do to those people?"
"Tis but a taste of the horrors yet to plague your world," The hand lowered, "Thee should be rejoicing for the people who, even now, make their way into heaven. Your tears should be turned inward, into yourselves."
"Behold!"
The black robed figure pointed toward the coffee shop beyond the open doorframe, "The King of Death comes!"
The blast of hot light stole all consciousness away from him.